My choice, not your burden
by BattyNora
Summary: Daryl makes a choice so that some of them make it out alive. "Cornered. Caged. Like animals. They had time, but what good was it when all they could do was to literally watch death coming straight at them." Daryl-centric story about how far you will go to keep your family safe, and how those actions affect those left behind.
1. Chapter 1

_**My Choice, not your burden. **_

_**Disclaimer: Own absolutely nothing. The characters, the premise, the walkers - none are mine. Darn it. **_

_**This is my first Walking Dead fanfic. I've been obsessing over the idea in my head for a while and before it literally consumes my waking thoughts I thought it best to get it out. And as far as I am concerned, why bother writing unless you let someone read it. SO, here I am, hoping someone somewhere out there will enjoy it. **_

_**I am in two minds where to go with this..whether to actually leave it as a short and sweet one-shot or to extend it into a longer (albeit still short) story. I have a feeling a one-shot won't rid me of the want to write this! **_

_**If I do decide to carry it on I am after a Beta and not sure where to get one, so if anyone has some help on that one it would be greatly accepted! As you will tell, no amount of proofing helps me with silly mistakes. And I sure as hell need some help to make the writing better. **_

_**Set some time after Season 3. **_

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**Chapter One **

It was a truly beautiful summer day.

A deserted factory sat in the middle of an overgrown field surrounded by flimsy metal fences, the shadows of the lattice looming on the grass was only interrupted where whole sections were collapsed in places. Trees lined one whole side of the area, stretching into a foreboding forest, whilst a single road snaked its way into fields that stretched into the distance on the other. At the entrance gate to the facility, next to a freshly cut hole in the chain link fence, sat a green Hyundai and black Bonneville, their owners nowhere to be seen.

The metal doors of the building burst open and four figures spilled out of the door, their outlines silhouetted in the doorway against to stark daylight they poured out into. Shadowy figures moved clumsily behind them; the unmistakable lumber of the un-dead licking at their heels. With no time to even turn and shut the doors the group made its way out into the open field, moving as one. They surged forward quickly despite one man being supported heavily by another, with the other two members taking out the few walkers directly in their path. Turning the corner of the building, they readied themselves to sprint to their vehicles on the other side of the fence before stopping abruptly. The field that had only half an hour ago been bare of any threats was now teeming with the incessant groans and shuffle of the walkers, the car and motorbike cut off from them. Everywhere was cut off from them.

Maggie grabbed hold of Glenn's hand as a gasp escaped her lips and he squeezed it quickly, pulling himself towards her. Daryl shifted himself slightly to get a better support of Rick's weight on his shoulder, adjusting his crossbow into a more comfortable position. Rick winced as Daryl's fingers slightly tightened against his bruised ribs.

"Shit!" Glenn spun quickly to check all angles surrounding them. It seems like a number of herds had happened upon one spot at once, some spilling from the woods while more came from the fields that stretched to the road. Why did it always happen to them? They were stuck between the building, the fence and a cluster of abandoned work vehicles. Cornered. Caged. Like animals. Their slow-moving enemy surrounded them, leaving them no spaces to manoeuvre out of their path. It didn't matter that they were not on top of them yet, that they had minutes until they would be at them, there was no way out. They had time, but what good was it when all they could do was to literally watch death coming straight at them. "Where the hell did they all come from?"

"That doesn't matter." Maggie raised her gun and took a clean shot at the head of a walker who was gaining quicker than his companions. She continued to shoot as she spoke, no longer caring about the noise. "How the hell do we make it past them like this?"

"We don't," Daryl almost growled. He lowered the injured Rick to the floor and made his way over to Glenn. He turned the young man around with the deftest of touches and delved into the backpack slung over the other's shoulder, quickly pulling out the items he sought.

"Daryl, what are you doing?" Glenn swung round as soon as he felt the zip refasten, raising his eyebrows at the items Daryl held. "Why do you need flares? We don't exactly need to draw any more attention over here, and I am pretty sure the local rescue services are decommissioned."

"Glenn..." Realisation dawned on Maggie a second before Glenn caught up.

"Daryl.." It came out as a pathetic whisper.

"Listen here. When I've drawn their attention, ya gotta grab Rick, he can't make it by himself, that tumble down them stairs gave his head a pretty big knock. Get all your asses back to the car and get yourselves the hell outta here. Straight back to that prison. You got tha'?" Daryl's eyes never met Glenn's or Maggie's as his hands worked quickly checking the flares that he held there. Once he received no response he continued, irritation dripping from his voice, "Glenn, do ya understand what I just told ya?"

"You won't make it out." Glenn's eye pleaded as they sought out Daryl's quickly darting ones, wanting to convince the other man not to make this decision. When the blue eyes finally made their to his Glenn realised it was already to late.

"Did ya understand what I just said to ya?" Low, threatening. So Daryl-like.

"Yes. But you don't have to.."

"Like hell I don't. You see another way outta this? You know as well as me that we ain't gonna be able to run through that. All you need is one gap, I can give ya that. I can draw enough with these away from the fence that you can make a run for it."

Glenn's mouth opened and he willed something, _anything_, to find it's way from his head to his mouth. He pleaded internally for some genius plan to magic itself from thin air and make the idea of Daryl sacrificing himself seem as ridiculous as it should. His shoulders sagged as he realised there was nothing.

"We can come up with something." Rick's shaking voice cut the tense silence. It was a silence that seemed louder and more oppressive than the collective groans of the approaching herds. He lifted his head from his chest, where it has been resting before the exchanges before him had battled its way into his foggy mind. Daryl turned and advanced quickly.

"We have no time. Shit, we're wasting time now. It's simple. Your children need you. The whole group needs you." Daryl's voice pitched out of anger and desperation that he didn't have the energy to fight back down. His strong finger suddenly pointed to Maggie and Glenn as he wheeled around. "Her daddy and sister need HER, and she needs you, Glenn. Those kiddies you two will no doubt be popping out soon are the future we've been fighting for all this time. All the kids are. They are the whole fucking point. Otherwise all this shit, everything that we've done, has been worth fuck all."

Daryl's chest was rising and falling quickly as his angry breaths filled the summer air. None of the others had any words left to argue. He took the opportunity to check the chamber of his gun and tipped three bullets into his calloused hand and then outstretched them towards Glenn. Glenn's eyes quizzed his friend.

"I'll only need one bullet." Daryl spoke matter-of-factly, not betraying the true meaning of his words. "You take these, you need them more".

With a quick pat on Glenn's shoulder and a nod to Maggie, Daryl turned his attention back to Rick. He bent down, grabbed the groggy mans chin in one hand and forced their eyes to meet.

Rick stilled as both men's breath evened to match the other. Their eyes held each other and a level of understanding was exchanged in no more than a few seconds. Rick dropped his eyes to the floor quickly, having to the break the connection before the tears that had begun to prickle the back of his eyes threatened to make their presence known. He picked his gaze back up to the icy blue stare of Daryl. The man had never faltered.

With one hand still on Rick's chin, Daryl leaned in closer, his other coming to rest gently on Rick's shoulder. Rick briefly wondered if this was the most Daryl had ever intentionally touched another human being.

"This is my choice. _My choice_. NOT your burden, ya' hear?" Daryl's voice was softer that Rick had ever heard it before, but it was as strong as ever.

"Daryl, please." Rick's hand reached out to the hand on his own shoulder and grabbed it, squeezed it. He didn't care how little Daryl liked touched, didn't care how he flinched at the affection the small gesture held. "I need YOU".

Daryl's head dropped and the air left his lungs. He felt his heart drop to his feet and he braced himself slightly. The earnest meaning coming from those three words had floored him, made him doubt for a second what he knew needed to be done. He searched in his head quickly for a way to make Rick understand what he needed to do, why he needed to do it. There was only one thing he knew that would do it.

"Family?"

The question was evident in that one word. That one word that meant everything to Daryl. It was the one word that relayed what this group of people have become to him over the past two years. It was the only way he knew to make Rick know how much he loved them. He would die for these people. He would die a thousand times over.

Their eyes met once again and Rick's expression betrayed him. One word. It was all it took to make him accept it.

"Family." Rick gripped Daryl's hand once more. He felt the hunter relax as a small almost-smile played along his lips.

"You take care of them for me."

Daryl rose and stretched his shoulders out. The dead were still advancing, drawing in tighter as a group as they closed in. All his friends needed was one gap to make it through. He could give them that. He _had_ to give them that. He pulled the crossbow over his chest tightly and grabbed at the strap until his knuckles were white, like a young child would with their much-loved security blanket. He took a deep breath, drawing out a long and low whistle as he exhaled and gave one final glance back towards the sagging forms behind him.

"What the hell are y'all waiting for? A fucking klaxxon?"

And with that he turned and ran, lighting one of the flares as he made a wide circle around the three now-moving figures, drawing as much attention away from the group as possible.

He took off back towards the abandoned work vehicles, running straight into the heaving mass of soulless monsters.

One flare was thrown clear to the side, taking a group of walkers scurrying after it, as another was lit, Daryl never missing a stride.

"COME AND FUCKING GET ME YOU ROTTING PIECES OF SHIT!"

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_**So, there you go, my first published WD fic. I hope that you enjoyed reading. I would appreciate any reviews. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author Note: Hi anybody who is reading! (if anyone is reading!). Here is chapter Two - I have decided to make this a very short story of maybe around 3-5 chapters. Although, let's not expect it to get any cheerier. **_

_**I really, really, really, really would love to hear any comments you have on this...so if you read please leave a little review. Constructive criticism welcomed, general niceties even more so! I will beg for reviews. **_

_**Song of the chapter: Willy Mason - The World that I Wanted**_

_**Disclaimer: I still own nothing, other then the little thoughts that run around in my head. **_

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**Chapter Two**

The setting sun was casting an orange hue onto the scene before him. Staring from the rear window, Rick kept his eyes trained on the figure standing atop of one of the overturned work trucks. He never took his eyes off the man shifting his weight from one foot to the other seemingly swaying in the windless evening. He could see that Daryl didn't have his crossbow anymore having lost it in the chaos of dozens of walkers and his figure looked so much smaller without it. He looked so much less sure without it. Rick could make out Daryl's arms that were hung limply by his side slowly tapping on the outside on his thighs as he slowly turned full circle to look at the throbbing mass encircling him.

Rick realised with a start that the fidgeting, as he had come to realise over the last two years, meant that Daryl was nervous. Apparently, even the seemingly unmoving man that had faced so many demons, both before and after the dead started to rise, got nervous in the face of death. Rick felt shame wash over him and tears once again sting his eyes as the realisation of what he had done dawned upon him; he was letting his best friend die to save his own skin. He'd allowed Daryl to put Rick's own life above his own and didn't even try to change his mind. Not really. He knows the man inside out, more than he expects anyone had his entire life, he knows how little he thinks of himself but he gave up before he ever really tried to argue the hunters worth.

Family. That was it. That was what Daryl had used as a final argument. One simple word to sum up why Daryl should be allowed to die and Rick had let him get away with using his Achilles heel as a trump card. Why had Rick not used that very word as the way to convince him that it was exactly why he shouldn't have discarded his own life so willingly? Didn't he realise that in saving his family he was also ripping out its heart?

Rick dropped his eyes for a second to rub the back of his hands over his eyelids to try and shake the constant throb behind his eyes, _just a second_, and when he looked up again Daryl was gone from the ever-shrinking scene. His heart leapt to his throat as he raised up slightly, bringing himself forward so his nose was almost up against the glass. Straining his eyes to focus at such a distance, he frantically searched for any sign of the hunter but couldn't find anything. There was no movement from the herd of the un-dead, all still crowding around the sideways vehicle in a frenzy, there was no sudden swell of movement in one direction to indicate his closest friend had managed to make a run for it. He felt bile rise and he brought his hand to his mouth as he attempted to swallow it back down. He was gone. _Daryl was gone_. The last glimmer of hope that they could somehow all get out of this evaporated as quickly as Daryl had.

Rick cursed himself silently. Not only had he allowed this to happen but he hadn't even been able to witness Daryl's last moments on this Earth. He couldn't give the others the warped closure of knowing how it had happened. Had he put the gun to his own head to save himself the pain of being ripped apart? Had one of those monsters got a hold of him and dragged him into the baying crowd? Or had Daryl given life one last 'fuck you' and gone out the only way he had known to live; fighting. A small smile played on Rick's stubble covered lips for an instant. He knew exactly what had happened.

The car suddenly screeched to a halt, causing the three bodies inside to lurch forward. Rick's breath was uneven as he turn his attention away from the scene behind them onto Glenn in the drivers seat.

"Shit," Glenn exclaimed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair as he swung around in his seat to face the others. "I can't do this, I can't just leave him. Can you still see him?"

Rick sagged in the seat. The others still had hope. He was going to have to snatch the last chance of a happy ending away from them.

Glenn didn't see the change in the man as his eyes searched past Rick and through the window behind his shoulder, trying desperately to see anything other than a mass of walkers.

"If he managed to get away, to get to higher ground, we could go back and get him," Glenn's voice was pleading, as if saying the words out loud was all he needed to do to make them come true. "He would have realised he had a chance as soon as we had the car. It's Daryl, he would have made it somewhere safe. We have the car now. We take down the fence and drive through them all. Shit, I can't see him."

"Rick, can you see him?" Maggie enquired, craning her neck to try and get a look out of the window. Not seeming bothered with receiving no reply, she brought herself up on her knees to desperately try and get some kind of better view out into the distance. "We can get him. We have to be able to get him now."

It was only when Rick heard Maggie reach and open her door to get a better look that he heard himself speak.

"He's gone." The lump in his throat, which he could only assume was his beating heart, made the words sound strangled. Forced.

"What?" Maggie's body stilled as she stopped her movement out of the car.

"He was there. He was on top of a truck. I could see him. He didn't have his crossbow, it was just him." Rick's voice caught as he saw both sets of eyes dawn, acknowledgement of the words he hadn't yet spoken already making itself known on their features. "He was there, right there, but now he's gone. The walkers are still there. They didn't move away but Daryl's gone...he's gone."

A momentary silence was shattered by a quiet sob escaping Maggie's lips, which she vaguely tried to keep in with her fingers that encased her mouth. Glenn tore his once-expectant eyes, now laced with a mixture of shame, anger and grief, from Rick and lent over Maggie to pull the door shut. Silently, his hands gripped the wheel once again, knuckles turning instantly white as the car started moving. Each of the occupants willed the vehicle to move as quickly as it could so they could get as far away from this place as possible. Every one of them held tears in their eyes, silently crying for a man who would have never believed he was worthy of such emotion.

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The silence was thick within the car, hanging like a thick blanket that was suffocating the living inside.

Rick's thoughts tumbled, almost as freely as the silent tears that littered his cheeks, around his bruised head, taking him back to memories that had shaped his relationship with the man he had come to trust more than any other. From the moment Rick had learnt that the dangerous, racist Merle Dixon had a brother he had instantly formed an opinion of the man, one that initially didn't disappoint. He expected to find a mini-Merle, for him to be rash, hot-headed and violent with a motto of 'act now, don't think at all'. There were moments, including a bunch of dead squirrels being launched at his head, where he thought this to be true, and from what he heard from the group it was especially so when he had been around his older brother. But slowly Daryl had started showing a different side to himself. At first it was small things that made Rick look twice at the hunter, that made him see who he really was.

There was the respect Rick felt when he received the subtle nod from the man when discussing rescuing Glenn from the Vatos that showed a sense of loyalty and honouring a debt he felt needed to be repaid, whether he agreed with the plan of action or even cared for those in need. There was the moment he was elbow deep in walker guts to see if it had devoured a little girl, the time when he dragged himself up a ravine after falling and impaling himself for the smallest sign she was still alive, or when he held back her mother as Rick put a bullet into the already-dead child's head that showed he would do anything_, anything_, for something, or someone, he cared about. There was the moment that Rick had first seen the scars that littered his torso, and the panic in the injured man's eyes that others were seeing the horror of his upbringing, that made Rick feel sick with disgust at whoever had inflicted them but also understand all the anger, all the distrust, all the distance that the hunter carried with him. It made Rick realise that the man was a true survivor. There was the moment he took the gun out of Rick's hand when he wasn't able to put Dale out of his misery that showed an ability to help carry the burden that was living in this world. There were so many moments over the months in which Daryl evolved from just a simple hot-headed redneck into a trusted friend, a loyal protector and an important part of everyone's lives.

But Rick could pinpoint the exact moment Daryl became more than that. He closed his eyes and thought back to the moment Daryl Dixon became his back-up, his support, and most of all his greatest friend.

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_It had been six weeks since the farm had been lost and the group had been moving from one makeshift camp to the next trying to stay out of harms way. They were living each day to simply survive to the next and this chilly evening they had found an abandoned church on the outskirts of a small town. Most of the group were laid down in the pews, covered in any blankets or jackets they could find for heat. One figure sat by a small fire methodically sharpening the end of a homemade bolt with his knife. _

_Rick slowly approached the hunter and sat down beside him, leaving enough space between the two that Daryl would feel comfortable and not as though his personal space was being threatened. Over the past couple of weeks they had taken to sitting in silence around the fire while the others slept, both knowing they only needed one of the them on watch at a time but neither wanting to leave the other alone in the darkness. _

_Most nights they didn't talk, or if they did it was limited to short conversations about their next steps. Most nights they were both lost in their own thoughts about the world they lived in or the one they had left behind. But tonight was different, and Rick would never know why Daryl had chosen this night to talk. _

_"I don't blame ya, y'know." It wasn't a question. Just a simple statement. _

_The quizzical look thrown from Rick caused him to carry on. _

_"For any of it." Daryl cleared his throat, softly, "Sophia, Shane...Merle. All ya done through this is your best for all of us."_

_A grunted laugh, almost a scoff but without the conviction left Rick's lips as he stood from his perch, "My best doesn't seem to be very good anymore."_

_"Ya can cut that bullshit! Yeah, we've lost people but this group here," Daryl gestured with the unfinished bolt in this hand at the figures sleeping by the fire, "We're all alive and I say we have ya ta thank for that." _

_"How can you say that?" Rick's voiced was quiet but it was undoubtedly strong. " I lost that little girl. I killed my best friend. I left your brother handcuffed to a roof as I fled a walker-infested building!" _

_The bolt left Daryl's hands when he threw it to the floor as he stood up to face the deputy sheriff. Glancing quickly to the other to make sure no one had woken he looked up at Rick, holding unbroken eye contact for the first time Rick has ever seen. He had never realised his eyes were so emotive until now._

_"Ah, hell." Daryl's voice was little more than a whisper as he continued, "Sophia was a kid, she ain't to know what she was doing. She was scared and she ran, but ya followed her. Ya took out two walkers trying to protect her but she just got lost on her way back to us. It was horrible what happened to her, but you can't have done no more. _

_"And Shane..." Daryl finally broke the eye contact, not knowing how to phrase his next thought, but bringing his blue eyes back up before he started to speak again, "Y'know I agreed with him a lot, but not how he did things. I think he thought he was doing good, y'know, I think he thought he was the good guy doing only what he had to do to keep what he cared about safe. But it never was his to care for. That man was a complete asshole and he gave ya no choice. Ya did what ya had ta do. He made it so. It was him or you. Him or ya family. Anyone who blames you for that is an idiot." _

_Daryl's gaze briefly flickered in the direction of Lori, and Rick didn't miss it. The hunter dropped back to his position at the fire and picked up the bolt again continuing his work. Another few seconds and Rick was sat next to him again, bringing his __Colt Python__ into his hands and letting it rest heavily in his palm._

_"About Merle..." Rick's chest lowered as he let out a long-awaited breath_

_"Jeez. Don't." Daryl raised one hand quickly to cut Rick off. "Merle deserved everything he got. You don't need to tell me he could be 'difficult', I know how dangerous he could be. I understood as soon as you told me that desperate measures were needed with him to get the rest of those people out safe. Sure as hell I wanted to kill ya then, I was angry, but I understood. Plus, he ain't dead. He's too stubborn for that dying shit."_

_Rick smiled quickly as the other man's conviction before returning his attention back to the thoughts that weighed heavily on his mind. _

_"I wish the others could see it like this. I can see it in their eyes, they don't trust me. They are scared of me. All I've ever done is try to help us survive, together." _

_"Give 'em time. They will." Daryl paused momentarily, " Granted, the 'Ricktatorship' talk may have freaked 'em out a bit, but they'll come round."_

_"Really?" Rick's voiced raised as disbelief drenched every word, "My wife, who is pregnant with either mine or my ex-partner's child, won't talk to me. My son, who was forced to shoot someone who he loved, can barely look at me. Carol blames me for losing her daughter, I can see it in the way she looks through me now. And after the CDC, after Shane, I can see them all question me. Everyone but you. I never asked for any of this. I can't lead a group that hates me, that doesn't trust me. I can't do this alone."_

_His breathing was heavy and his gaze never once left the flickering of the flames in front of him. It felt so good to say these worries out loud. He had been so busy trying to be a leader to the group that he hadn't been able to voice his gnawing thoughts for fear of seeming weak, for fear of them thinking he wasn't able to be strong for them all. All this time he has felt he hadn't been able to let his guard down and the guilt, the worry, the shame had slowly crept their way around his neck, as if they were slowly choking him until it would be too late and he wouldn't be able to scream for help. He could slowly feel the grip around his neck loosen and he sucked in a deep breath to steady his breathing. _

_A strong hand gently took hold of his shoulder and Rick was surprised to see it belonged to Daryl. The man didn't touch if he could help it. Rick's eyes met the blue eyes once again and he immediately felt a strength that had left him a long time ago surge through his body._

_"Ya not in this alone no more." And as quickly as it was placed there the hand dropped away from Rick's shoulder, going back to its work once again. _

_They sat in silence for minutes, Rick taking in everything that had just been said and finding himself glancing over at the hunter with a newfound affection. _

_"You know, I think this is the most I've heard you say since I met you." Rick glanced sideways. _

_"I talk when something needs saying. Ya needed telling." This time he never looked up at the other man, as though the previous lowering of emotional barriers had never happened. "All this moping about was pissing me off."_

_Another moment of silence before a small laugh floated through the night air. _

_"Ricktatorship?" Rick chuckled quietly. _

_"Ya like it?" A smirk flashed across Daryl's face, lit up by the flames in front of them. "Came up with it all by myself."_

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A bump in the road and a change of speed brought Rick out of his memory. He looked ahead to see the ominous shadows of the prison looming in front of them and he smacked his tongue against sandpaper-dry mouth. Glenn had slowed the car down as he hesitated about bringing them to their destination. They all knew what was about to happen, what news they had to deliver to the rest of the group and they all knew the grief their family was about to feel. It was the same grief that sat heavily, crushingly so, on their own chests.

Glenn drew in a deep breath as he brought the car to the gates, not even batting an eyelid at the walkers slowly pressing themselves against the windows, and Carl began to open the wooden entrance. Glenn quickly glanced back at Rick and his face was contorted in a grimace, his lips downturned and his brow furrowed, before focussing again on getting them safely in the gate. Maggie's head was propped against the window, her hands balled into the tear-drenched collar of her jacket. Her deep breathing could almost fool you into thinking she was asleep except the frequent shudders that shook he entire frame. Her gaze was distant and unfocussed even as they drew close to their loved ones.

Rick saw Carl look into the car with a smile that quickly faded as soon as he set eyes on his father. The young boy's eyes scanned the car's passengers quickly, a look at horror tracing over his features quickly, before turning his attention back to the gate and allowing the car to pull to a stop in the safety of the yard. The engine was cut and the three just sat there, delaying the inevitable until they could no longer hide from it.

As Rick stepped carefully onto the ground his thoughts went quickly to the last time they had driven back to the prison without Daryl. Then they could at least hold onto the fact that the man was still very much alive and had chosen to stay out in the world with his brother. At the time it had hurt, it had felt like a betrayal, and Rick remember that he had found himself thinking then that he could only imagine that losing him to death wouldn't have been as bitter a pill to swallow.

As his friends, his family, all slowly made their way to them he looked across at Maggie and Glenn. The regret etched so clearly on their faces almost brought him to his knees but he could see something else there. They silently pleaded with him to be the one to break the news, to land the blow to the people he cared for so deeply. He leaned heavily on the bonnet, steadying himself, and looked up at the faces staring at him. He didn't even have to say anything, he realised. The wandering eyes had already searched for the missing fourth member of the group. They had already seen the looks on the three returning faces, seen the eyes of people who had obviously just had an unwanted memory burned into the very fibre of their being. Rick saw each of them react in turn. Michonne turned away from the group as Hershel's aged features deepened in sorrow. He gathered Beth into his arms and led her to Maggie and Glenn to embrace, Maggie all but falling to the floor under the gentle comfort of her family. Carl's eyes dropped to the floor and his fists clenched in anger before he took off towards a guard tower. Carol's gaze simply fell to the sleeping Judith in her arms as she cradled her tightly, her head shaking from side to side as her face finally crumpled into a mass of sobs.

Rick gratefully realised he didn't have to utter the words out loud and instead hung his head, bringing his chin to his chest and squeezing his eyes tight. Around him he could hear the family Daryl had fought so hard to protect breaking, and his knees buckled as he realised the hunter wasn't able to protect them from this. He couldn't protect them from anything anymore.

No. Death was not an easier pill to swallow.

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**Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading. I appreciate any reviews. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING...nothing I tell you! **

**Thank you so much for the reviews, means a lot to get some feedback. And I promise, before the end everything that needs to be will have been "seen". **

**Italics = flashbacks. **

**Am currently laid up with a nasty case of tonsillitis and dealing with my 2-year-old daughter at the same time has probably left me lacking in my proof-reading. Apologies for any silly mistakes!**

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**Chapter Three**

_Four figures practically flew up the stairs. The doors behind them leading to the basement they had just exited pulsed like a heartbeat as trapped walkers pushed on it. Daryl took the lead as he headed up flight of stairs that would take them to the entrance, or rather exit, of the building. This whole run had been a complete bust. They found very little that could be of use to the group, this place having been cleaned out long ago, and had only been successful in finding a fair amount of walkers on each floor and accidently releasing a substantial group of them that had been trapped in one of the basement rooms. Daryl surged ahead to the doors at the top of the stairwell, ready to get the hell out of there. _

_"Rick!" Glenn cried as he saw the dark-haired man take a step backwards to allow Maggie to run past him, and miss his footing on the top step. "RICK!"_

_Rick went stumbling backwards, losing his balance and tumbling down the steps. A loud crack resounded in the tight space as his head hit the concrete floor at the bottom. His still form came to a rest in front of the pulsing door as bloody, skinny fingers snaked their way through the gap that appeared each time the door swelled inwards towards him. There came another pulse from the door, this time much stronger, as if the tantalising smell of the meat on a prone man had pulled the un-dead forward. Fingers were followed quickly by arms and then heads. It would only be moments before the figures behind the door would begin to surge through towards the still man. _

_Before either Maggie or Glenn could react Daryl had all but thrown his crossbow at Glenn and vaulted over the gooseneck of the handrail, dropping himself the height of the flight of stairs and landing inches away from Rick. The force of the drop threw Daryl onto his side but in one quick motion he had dragged himself up, plucked the deputy sheriff from the ground and swung him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. As soon as Daryl's foot hit the second step the door below them spilt open and hungry forms flooded the space that moments before Rick had been occupying. _

_As Daryl took long strides up the steps to rejoin them, Glenn and Maggie took shots at the furthest advanced walkers to give the men time between them and the un-dead. As soon as Daryl had blown by them they both turned and followed him out of the doors at the top of the flight. Rick had started to stir on Daryl's shoulder so the hunter lowered him to his feet and draped his friend's arm over his own shoulder, supporting both their weight. _

_"Ya' with me?" Daryl enquired, glancing sideways but still not stopping long enough to get a good look at the man._

_"Yeah...uh...took a knock...just a bit dazed." Rick shook his head as he leaned heavily on Daryl. A bit of knock may have been an understatement._

_Glenn snuck a look at Rick as he pushed open the heavy, metal doors that sealed the exit of the building. Rick looked pale and groggy, but seemed to be regaining his footing more with every step. Relief flooded Glenn as he pushed on, his only fleeting thought being how much worse it could have been. The group spilled out into the sunlight and carried on making their way around the building and towards their vehicles_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As he finished telling the story of what had happened, Rick let his head fall to rest in his upturned palms as he planted his elbows onto the table in front of him. Himself, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Hershel, Beth and Carol had made their way into the old prison library that they now used as a sort of town hall, with Tyreese and Sasha making their way quietly into the room mid-story having encountered a seething Carl and being told the news.

"So, he caused a diversion?" Beth's timid voice floated through the stagnant air from where she sat next to her father, gripping his hand in hers. "If he had gotten far enough away couldn't he have made it somewhere safe? I mean, did any of you see him...I mean, how do you know that he's dead?"

The use of last word sliced the last remnant of denial out of the minds of the group. It was the first time anyone had even spoken the word. No one had had to before, the looks on the faces from the three returning members making the use of it almost lacklustre. Rick didn't even look up as he answered.

"I know. He was surrounded. There was nowhere safe to run. He had no weapons, he had no back-up. The herd never left that truck, even after I lost sight of him. Something kept them there..."

A heavy silence enveloped the room, its presence choking everyone, no one sure who should be next to talk. Tension was building with every second that the room remained frozen, no one daring to look into another set of eyes. Finally, the oppressive spell was broken as Carol stood from her chair, her hands visibly shaking, and fixed her eyes on the top of Rick's head. Her voice shattered the silence as soon as she began to speak; Not with the volume, no she spoke as softly as usual, but with the low, rumbling tone of rage that threatened to spill over.

"YOU LET HIM DO THIS?" Her ice-blue eyes were aflame as they roamed over to Maggie and Glenn, who were stood in each others arms by the window, before she swung them back to Rick, meeting his as he brought his head up. "You let him do this?"

"I'm sorry." Rick's hands clasped together, one knuckle touching the tip of his nose, as if he was praying to the woman in front of him. His voice was weak as he spoke, "I tried to stop him but.."

"Well not hard enough it seems!" This time the volume was raised and the people inside the room visibly flinched. Carol didn't notice as she bent and surrounded Rick's still-clasped hands with her own. "You can't have tried, Rick. This is Daryl. _Daryl_. He trusts your every word. If you give an order he always follows it. All you needed to do is say the word 'no' and he wouldn't have done it."

Carol moved away and Rick's stubble-littered mouth opened momentarily as he searched for an answer but as soon as the truth of her words slammed into him he visibly sagged in front of the group. It was as if the figurative weight he had been accumulating since Atlanta had suddenly become too much for him and he crumpled before their eyes. His head hit the table and his fingers interlinked behind his neck as he rocked his weight back and forth ever-so-slighting in his chair. A sob wrenched itself from his very soul as he finally gave in to the tears that had threatened for the last few hours. The death and loss from the last two years finally came crashing about him as he wept openly, loudly and without abandon.

"Carol, stop. Please." Glenn spoke softly as he drew himself away from Maggie and towards the table. He reached down gently and placed a hand on Rick's heaving back as he stood directly in front of Carol, imploring her with his eyes to stop. "We were surrounded, there was no way we were making it out and he had made his mind up. I looked him in the eyes, Carol, I looked him straight in the eyes and he had made up his mind. _You_ know Daryl better than anyone. He's the most stubborn asshole you could meet. When it comes to things that mattered the most to him you know as well as I do that no one, not even Rick, could have stopped this."

Carol held Glenn's gaze for thirty more seconds before her lip trembled slightly. The crystal blue irises started to cloud slightly as moisture built up in front of them. She stepped closer again to Rick and her hand hovered above the man's shoulder. It stayed there, swaying in the emotion-charged air as if she was going to lay it upon him in an act of comfort before she suddenly snapped it back into her chest, cradling it with her other hand, turning on the spot and heading out of the doorway.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Beth consciously stepped lightly on the metal stairs as she made her way up to one of the remaining watch towers. She quietly opened the door and peered into the darkening room, the setting sun casting various shadows over the confined space.

At the opposite side of the room Carl stood with his back to her, both of his arms by his side. She watched with interest as he rhythmically flexed his fingers, straightening and stretching them so much that she could see a slight outwards bend, before balling his hands up into a such a tight fist that the force behind it shook his entire frame. He continued with this constant motion of flexing and balling, flexing and balling and didn't acknowledge the youngest Greene's presence.

Beth slowly crossed the room and stood shoulder to shoulder with Carl. She didn't bother to look to him or to take in his features. She didn't need to look at him to know she would see the blank stare of someone who had faced far too much loss at such a young age. She didn't need to look to be able to sense the anger that radiated from him. She wasn't here to look at him or to speak to him, she was just here_ for_ him. As the young man flexed his fingers once more she carefully slipped her own delicate fingers in between his. A moment passed and he closed his fist again, this time not with the same force but gently around Beth's fingers and held them there. He didn't flex his fingers again as they both stared silently across the prison yard and out to the silhouettes of walkers dancing on the chainlink fence.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Glenn and Maggie sat on their cot, her head laid across his lap as he carefully combed her dark hair with his fingers. They had both sat in silence since they had returned from the library, neither one of them ready to talk through the events of the day but equally not ready to talk about anything else. The guilt of surviving the day was sitting heavily on both of their chests as they each replayed snippets of what had happened over and over again.

They had stayed in this position, not uttering a single word to each other, for almost two hours when Maggie felt Glenn suddenly tense beneath her. She waited for his words, as she knew he would be unable to contain whatever it was that had made him react. Those words, however, were just not what she was expecting at all.

"I want us to get married. I don't want to put it off anymore."

"Glenn.." Maggie sat up and pulled away from her lover, a look of confusion on her face. "Do you really think now is the time to talk about this?"

"Yes, I think now is exactly the time, don't you see?" He quickly closed the distance between them again. He gripped both of her hands with one of his own and brought his other to the side of her face, gently cupping her cheek. "We can't wait for something so important in this kind of world. We don't get to just stop and mourn like we used to. The world doesn't allow us time for that. There is nothing to say the biggest herd we've ever seen won't come tearing through the fences tonight or that the Governor won't return tomorrow and our time could be up.

"We could have died today. If it wasn't for Daryl we would have never made it out of that field. Every morning we wake up and we have to focus on surviving until the next dawn. We wake up every day and we know full well that it could be our last. I want to wake up every morning that I have and be your husband. I want to wake and know that if today is the day I am to die, then I die with you as my wife. I want us to live as husband and wife, Maggie."

Maggie listened to the young man and felt herself relaxing into his embrace on her face. She could see his eyes swimming with emotion and it made her heart soar. Of course Glenn would find some remnant of a positive in this, he always did. She scooted forward on the bed until she was almost in his lap, nodding at him. Glenn beamed, moving his other hand to the other side of her beautiful face and kissing her. He felt the strength that Maggie gave him, the want to live a good life with her even in a world like this, surge through him and for a second he forgot.

As Glenn broke off the kiss he leaned his forehead into Maggie's and rested it there. They both held the majority of their body weight on that one point as if the support here could encapsulate their entire meaning to each other. Both stayed quiet for a moment with their eyes closed, lost in their own thoughts. Memories sprinted through both of their memories as they clutched to one another.

"I just wish he could have been there."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Hope you liked that one.**

**I only planned on doing one chapter of reaction back at the prison, but I started writing and suddenly I was having little ideas of Beth/Carl, Glenn, Maggie/Glenn and Hershel with just about anyone else so it all just got away from me a little bit! I've split it into two chapters as otherwise I think it would have just been too much in one. It does mean I have almost finished Chapter 4, and I already had Chapter 5 written mostly, so there may be a couple more updates in the next few days. **

**Thank you for reading if you made it this far.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. **

**Italics = flashbacks. **

**Song of the chapter - Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons**

**You may realise this throughout this chapter...but I bloody love Hershel. That sage old dude rocks. **

**And apparently illness works with chucking out chapters quickly. Two in one day!**

**Hope you like. Hope you like the connection with one of the flashbacks too. Also, a reference to Chupacubra. **

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

**Chapter Four **

Carol had taken a walk around the fence perimeter after leaving the library to try and clear her head before heading inside. She didn't want the people in there to see any traces of the anger she had displayed to her friends, and nor did she want Judith to pick up on the negativity that was surely coming off of her in waves. Despite the way her eyes had welled during her exchange with Glenn she had still not let herself cry. There would be plenty of time for that when she was alone in the cell that Daryl had recently started sharing with her; his reluctance at living in a cage had apparently been outweighed by his need to keep her protected in the face of the arrival of so many people from Woodbury. People that Daryl had made abundantly clear he didn't know enough about to trust. As she finished her seventh revolution of the fence Carol drew her hands through her lengthening hair and made her way towards the cell block.

Hershel watched as Carol returned and straight away relieve a young Woodbury woman from the cell occupied by a sleeping Judith. He watched her expertly scoop the sleeping infant up and cradle her into her neck, bestowing the most delicate of kisses onto her soft temple before lowering the child back down into her makeshift crib. Hershel made his way over to the cell, entering as Carol sat down on the cot adjacent to Judith's position and took a seat next to her. He placed one of his wrinkled hands onto her knee and was grateful to find she placed hers on top of his. He was glad she was accepting the comfort that he knew she dearly needed.

"I am so angry at him." A deep breath escaped Carol's lips as she spoke, as if the words she had been dying to speak had been holding it in.

"You can't blame Rick for this, Carol." Hershel's tone was soft and comforting but held a slight tone of authority, reading to argue Rick's innocence.

"Not Rick." Carol whispered, "_Daryl_."

Hershel's hand gripped Carol's as she let her head fall forward and he realised the internal battle the woman was having with herself. It had been easy in the raw moments following the group's return to forget that in Daryl's action of putting the other three, and their collective families, before himself he was also putting them before Carol. It was no secret that the two of them shared a deep connection that could not be explained merely by the word friend, or love, or family. It was something deeper, almost as if the two of them had discovered a kindred spirit in the other. They provided each other with a support that neither of them had been privy to before in their lives. While they may not have been romantically involved or related by blood they had a very rare relationship that others could only wish to stumble upon in their lifetime. In sacrificing himself for the rest of them Daryl was severing that connection and effectively leaving Carol without the thing she had become to rely on the most in this post-apocalyptic world. Having been so prepared to defend Rick's actions, Hershel was suddenly unable to find the words he dearly wanted to be able to comfort Carol with. He realised quickly that there were no words he could offer.

Tears slowly fell down Carol's cheeks and she haphazardly wiped them with the back of her covered forearm, leaving traces of dampness on her sleeves. She clung on to Hershel's hand and kept her head down as she let out another deep breath.

"He saved them." Carol's voice shook with emotion, but she cleared her throat and carried on. "He did what he had to do to make sure they made it home and I'm angry at him? How is that possible?"

"It's a perfectly understandable reaction. Especially seen as how close you two were." Hershel was grateful to have finally found his voice, and that Carol asked a question he had the words to answer. "That man did an amazing thing today. Made a choice that I have never doubted in all the time I have known him that he would. But in making that choice he has left people that cared deeply about him. I know you have battled with him to recognise his worth to all of us, and I know to you this seems like the ultimate failure of that. The fact that there was a choice is what makes it harder for you to accept."

Carol nodded at the truth of the older man's words, tears now falling faster than she could wipe them away. To her Daryl had chosen to leave her behind, and it tore through her that it was all because of how little he valued himself.

"If it makes any difference," Hershel carried on, this time bringing his other hand to clasp Carol's and turning to face her, "I don't think it was a choice to him. I think he saw it as the only option available."

Before either of them could continue Judith began to stir and Carol quickly wiped her eyes once more and made her way to the little girl. She looked down sadly as she stroked the minimal hair on the child's head and lightly patted her stomach in an attempt to sooth her back to sleep.

"I remember the first time I noticed the angel wings on Daryl's vest." Carol's voice was suddenly calm, dripped in the faraway tone of reminiscence. "It was after he had to leave his beloved truck and started to ride the bike. I remember smiling to myself and thanking God that he had sent an angel to look out for me and my Sophia. He'd already saved our lives on more occasions than I could ever remember."

A hearty chuckle filled the room as it escaped from Hershel's lips. The now-sniggering man used one hand to try to stifle the noise while waving the other in Carol's direction in an apology. Carol furrowed her brow in confusion at the outburst and glanced to Judith to check she hadn't been startled by the noise.

"I'm sorry," Hershel whispered through his hand. "The phrase 'God works in mysterious ways' came to mind."

Carol returned the smile and laughed softly to herself, knowing exactly what he meant. She watched the man's face lose its radiance as the light left his eyes and the smile was replaced by a look of sadness.

"He cared about you deeply, Hershel, he respected you." Carol ghosted another smile over to Hershel, wanting to provide the man with comfort like he had for her, as she continued to tend to Judith. "He may not have spoken about it but I think you gave him a hope that not every man was destined to be like his father. You showed him that good men could come from a bad beginning, that he could still become the kind of man he always wished he could."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

A few minutes later Hershel exited Carol's cell and quickly made his way down the walkway to his own. Thankful to see that Beth wasn't there, he lowered himself to his bed and brought his hands to rest above his head. He took some calming, deep breaths and closed his eyes allowing himself to remember.

_Morning had only just broken when Hershel quietly opened the door to his own farmhouse bedroom. He snuck a look into the room and saw Daryl sitting upright on the bed with his head bowed slightly as his hands held the book Hershel had left him the previous day on his lap. Hershel cocked his head slightly and smiled to himself; it looked like the younger man only had a few pages to go. Before Hershel could back out of the room and save from disturbing the climax of the story, Daryl sensed a presence and quickly hid the book under the pillow beside him. _

_"Good Lord, can't you people leave me alone," his gruff voice spoke. _

_Hershel ignored the man's unwelcoming tone as he stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. Men like Daryl Dixon didn't scare him; he may be rude, aggressive and made it as hard as possible to be around but Hershel knew that men like him had a moral code that included not hurting old men who had just patched them up. He noticed as he turned back towards the room that the hunter had brought the white sheet up to cover himself. _

_"It's a bit late to be modest in front of me I'm afraid, young man." Hershel almost scoffed. "How are you feeling? I'm surprised you aren't still asleep, those painkillers I gave you pack a mean punch. _

_"I can handle a mean punch." Daryl spat, not liking the fact he was having to deal a visitor so soon in the day. He'd had enough the previous day to last him a while. "I like to be covered, that's all. Jesus Christ, that so hard for y'all to understand?"_

_"No, I understand, Son." Hershel decided to ignore yet another instance of the Lord's name being taken in vain, realising it was Daryl's way of trying to chase him off. The man was clever, Hershel realised long ago, adapting his bad behaviours for each person to give him the best chance of getting them to leave him alone. However, Instead of turning away Hershel approached the bed and went to lay a hand on the younger man's shoulder. He was greeted with a flinch so violent he immediately withdrew. His voice softened, trying not to intimidate his obviously uncomfortable patient. _

_"Do you mind if I have a look quickly?" Hershel continued, "That wound was so dirty I want to clean and redress it to make sure it doesn't get infected."_

_Daryl's eyes quickly scanned the door to make sure it was closed and no one else would be entering and then down to the white sheet that he had pulled up to underneath his chin. His eyes remained on his covered chest for a second before he hesitantly pulled the sheet to the side, allowing Hershel only to view the part of his side that was needed, and giving him a wordless permission. _

_"I'll need you to give me a bit more access than that." Hershel made his way to the bathroom and retrieved some lukewarm water and a clean cloth, as well as new dressings. Approaching the bed once again he nodded his head in the direction of Daryl's chest and continued, "you don't have to cover those. Nothing to be ashamed about in front of me."_

_"Shut up Doc." The venom in his voice evident as Daryl threw the sheet off, exposing his entire bare torso. "Don't know what ya harping on 'bout."_

_Once again ignoring the brashness, Hershel pulled the wooden chair over to the side of the bed and sat down gently. Slowly he began to undress the wound and inspect the stitches before dipping the cloth in the water and dabbing the area. Silence filled the room except for the odd gasp of discomfort from the man on the bed until Hershel spoke once again._

_"I always thought my father was one of the cruellest men I would ever meet. He was a cold, violent drunk and one I would never have forgiven. But, son, looking at the state of your skin..."_

_"Ya don't need to be talking about something ya know nothing about." Daryl snapped, twisting so that the other man could see the scowl on his face._

_"Looking at the state of your skin," Hershel carried on despite the display of defiance from the man, not even hesitating before carrying on, "I don't think my father was anywhere as cruel as I thought he was. Those scars I saw on your back are from a belt, I assume? The usual weapon of child discipline for those who feel it necessary to harm their children. But these ones on your front look different. A knife? A knife being repeatedly drawn over the same spot by the looks of it."_

_"I'm warning ya," Daryl forced out between clenched teeth, fists balling into the mattress beneath as he noticeably tensed beneath the veterinarian's fingers. "I don't wanna knock an ol man out but I will."_

_"Son," Hershel removed his hands from the man's torso, "you can try all you want to push people away with harsh words and physical distance but one day you are going to need to realise that these people here don't want to hurt you. Every one of them are concerned for your wellbeing right now." _

_Daryl laughed out loud, a harsh and short burst of sound that made his body shake slightly. As Hershel once again went to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder Daryl sprang up quickly and almost threw himself off the opposite side of the bed. Landing on his feet he turned to the grey-haired man. _

_"I don't need none of thems concern" Daryl roared, "an' I sure as hell don't need a nosey ol' man like you trying to play head doctor with me, so now you're finished fixin' me up do me a favour and get the hell away from me."_

_"I don't pretend to know what you have been through..." Hershel tried again. _

_"Shit, ya'll really are stupid." Grabbing the clean shirt that had been left for him on the dresser and pulling it over his head, Daryl made his way to the door. _

_"Where are you going?" Pure disbelief laced Hershel's voice. "You're in no state to leave right now."_

_"Like fuck I ain't," Daryl growled. "To my tent. At least I can' get some peace out there."_

_And with that he exited the room, slamming the door hard enough to wake every one of the sleeping bodies inside the house. Hershel stood still, shocked by the pure rage that had exploded from the man, before he bent down and plucked the book Daryl had been reading from underneath the pillow. Hershel set it back on the bedside table and took a deep breath. Maybe, one day, Daryl would come back for it. _

_..._

_Months passed with the two men not having another private conversation, but that changed while they were on the road after the farm had been overrun. They had found a small church to settle in for a night, or maybe even two if they were lucky. During the sweep of the building they had come across a small, single bed in the vestry and it had been decided that either Hershel or Lori should take it. Lori gladly offered it to the older man, in exchange for all the help he had given her in the time she had known him._

_After saying goodnight to his daughters and heading into the room, Hershel heard a soft knock on the door behind him. Expecting to find Beth standing there asking to sleep on the floor, he opened the door with a smile on his face. Instead of his daughter he was met with the sight of Daryl Dixon staring back at him. _

_"Sorry to disturb ya, Doc." Daryl shifted uncomfortably between his feet, his eyes darting anywhere but to meet Hershel's and his bottom lip being gnawed between his teeth. He looked like a timid child who was about to ask for more pocket money. In his hands was a metal cup that Hershel recognised as Daryl's, steam visibly rising from its contents. "I found a couple more of them teabags ya like in one of my bags and thought you might want one as a nightcap?"_

_"Thank you, son, that's really kind." Hershel smiled a confused smile at the younger man and gestured for him to come into the room. "Would you mind putting it down over there on the bureau?"_

_Daryl nodded and strode over to the piece of furniture, setting down the cup carefully. However, instead of turning instantly and heading back the way he came like Hershel had expected, the hunter stayed where he was, hunched slightly over the cup. The veterinarian took this as an indication that the man was not about to leave and shut the door quietly, so as not to spook him. Hershel watched curiously as Daryl fiddled with the handle of the cup, still not bringing his eyes up from the hot beverage. Daryl's shoulders softly lowered as he began to talk._

_"You were right, y'know? That he used a belt on my back and a knife on my chest." He spoke with an unmistakable nervousness, something Hershel had never heard from this man before. "It depended on whether he was just drunk or high too as to which he would go for. When he was sober it was just his fists and feet. He never used the knife before Ma died but I was used to Da. I was a good for nothing varmint, deserved everything he gave ta me. Never once stood up to him me whole life." _

_Hershel swallowed down the lump from his throat but remained silent, knowing the man had more to say. He allowed no emotion to betray itself on his face as Daryl turned to look at him, bringing blue eyes to lock with his own and holding his gaze there as he spoke the rest._

_"But they weren't all him. This one here.." Daryl brought his left hand up across his chest and traced a finger over the largest, nastiest of all his scars that lay from his shoulder, across his collarbone and down to his chest. ."This one here was Merle, my brother. _

_"He was 6 years older than me, so when we was younger he tried to protect me, tried to make sure I could eat and dress and would try to make sure I stayed outta Pa's path as best he could. Taught me to hunt and track and how ta hide in the woods away from the ol' man. Then he found drugs himself, got inta trouble and had stints in juvie, one the army before they kicked his ass out and then prison. When he was home he'd try and beat some 'man' inta me, but with the best intentions. Said it'd help me with Da. _

_"This one night he'd got himself high as a kite and came flying inta the house. I was in bed and I just remember him grabbing ma ankles and dragging me inta the kitchen. My Da had already laid inta me with the belt pretty hard and I can remember how much it hurt to be dragged along the carpet. Merle was screaming at me, I don't even know what, I don't think he even knew what. He was just raging, all this pure anger that he had just needed somewhere to go. I guess he had a lot of anger to get out. He beat the piss outta me and then he used a hunting knife on my chest. Spent hours going over that one spot, deeper and deeper until he started to hit the bone. He laughed. Laughed so hard that he had tears, of joy, rolling down his cheeks. I never felt pain like it. I never made it back ta bed...even after he passed out on the sofa I just laid where he left me. Never felt so pathetic. _

_"When he woke up the next afternoon I'd cleaned up, made a shitty job of stitching myself up and he was no different ta normal. He'd been so high he hadn't even remembered doing it. I reckon he assumed Da had done it...and I never told him otherwise. Son of a bitch took me out on a hunting trip that afternoon. Gave me that same fucking hunting knife as a gift. It was my 12th birthday." _

_After finishing his speech, Daryl remained where he stood, his chest moving slightly faster than usual and his hands wringing themselves in each other nervously. It was obvious this was the first time the hunter had shared his story. _

_"Son, I'm sorry you had to go through all of that." Hershel kept his eyes locked with Daryl's, not wanted to be the one to break to contact. Not wanting to make any movement that the obviously damaged man would misinterpret. _

_"I'm not after a sorry." Finally the eye contact was broken and Daryl returned to fiddling with the cup's handle. "Nothing no one can do to change it. I just thought, seen as you asked before, you might like to know." _

_Daryl moved across the room, stopping to rest his hand on Hershel's shoulder. The motion took Hershel by surprise and he smiled to himself at the irony of the involuntary flinch that shook his form. _

_"I used to think that a Dixon is what a Dixon is." Daryl carried on regardless, "Ain't no changing that one. I was meant to be what I was. But I never had no one to care about before now, and I'm staring to think maybe I was wrong." _

_Before Hershel could respond, the hunter moved away to the door and opened it. Dipping his head low, he turned and spoke one last time before closing the door._

_"The tea...I never thanked you for patching me up that time."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

He hadn't moved from the library table since everyone had left him to his own thoughts long ago. All of them were worried how Rick would cope with this new stress after what had transpired after Lori, but they also knew that the man needed time and space to take everything in.

Hershel made his way past Michonne, who had take it upon herself to unofficially guard Rick in case anything happened, and hobbled into the room and over to the table. The fact he wasn't quite used to the discomfort of his new leg at the end of the day evident in his gait. He had picked Rick up some water and a small portion of their evening meal after leaving his cell and the older man gently placed it on the table and sat down beside the deputy.

"Rick, son, talk to me." Hershel spoke softly.

Having received no response from the man, Hershel pulled a calloused hand through his long, white-grey hair and sighed.

"Please, Rick." The softness was leaving the tone now, something close to annoyance bubbling to the surface. "I know you have lost big today, we all have, but I can't let you have a repeat of what happened after you lost Lori. The group can't handle that as well right now."

Rick slowly raised his head from the table at these words and Hershel grimaced at the state of the man. Hooded lids hung above bloodshot eyes that held no life in them. He had seen the look once before and Hershel prayed God that he was in time to bring Rick back from the brink this time.

"I'm going back. Even if there isn't..." Rick couldn't bring himself to say 'anything left', the visual image it gave him brought a deathly shiver up his spine. "Even if we don't find _him_ we can look, we can get his crossbow. We can find something to bury. It doesn't matter what it is. We can bring the bike home. Hell, maybe we can just find out how he... Something. _Anything."_

"Rick, do you think that is wise?" Hershel implored, not seeing the use of going back. "It won't change anything. What kind of repayment to Daryl would it be if someone got killed for that?"

"Yes, yes it changes something." Rick viscously rubbed his stubble with his hand and looked at Hershel. "I don't know how he...he..._it _happened. I looked away for a second and then he was gone. I know the chances are slim that we would find one but I need to look for a body. I was a policeman. I dealt with evidence, I knew a crime or accident had occurred because I could see it, I could look at what was left behind. I need to see something, Hershel. Like with...with...Lori. If I can't see it, it isn't there. I need something physical to tell me what happened to him. I need to be able to know how...what..."

Suddenly Rick's fists were flying up to meet his own forehead as he physically tried to beat the images that flashed through his mind away.

"Shit, shit. SHIT. SHIT! I shouldn't have let him do it."

"Rick!" Hershel grabbed the man's flying fists and pushed both hands onto the table, keeping a hold of them as he spoke, "Listen to me. By all accounts you had no choice in the matter today. Daryl wouldn't have let you stop him once he had made up his mind and you must realise that. He did this because he cared about the group. As much as a man like Daryl Dixon could, he loved this group. He loved you. I know he thought of you as a brother, son. Dare I say, he probably thought of you as the brother he wished Merle had been all his life."

The grey-haired man dipped his head to wipe his eyes as tears began to well, the conversations and memories of the afternoon having caught up with him.

"That man had been through hell in this life," Hershel choked down the emotion from his voice, "long before the apocalypse even began. I don't doubt for a second that he lived in a world of hate and anger and pain from the moment he was born into it. He had never found a place or people that accepted him before he found us. Found you. Found a family that could finally teach him what love and trust was supposed to be. With it he found his reason to truly begin to live, probably for the first time in his life. Today, if he saw it fit that his reason to die was because of his love for you, for Glenn, for Maggie, for Judith and Carl, or even Beth and I, then that was his choice."

"He made the wrong choice." Rick's words were quiet. "We would have figured something out. We needed him to stay alive. He made the wrong choice and I let him."

"STOP!" Hershel's suddenly raised voice caught in his throat as the raw emotion he was feeling finally betrayed him. He quickly cleared his throat again and continued, bringing as much conviction to his voice as possible. "Daryl had...he had_ so_ much taken away from him in life. The ability to love, to trust, to accept touch. Please Rick, in front of God's eyes I beg you, please don't take away anything from him in death. Let him have that one thing."

Overcome with the day's events Hershel stood and looked down on Rick, no longer able to continue the conversation. Outside the window he could see the sun in the last stages of setting and realised suddenly how exhausted he truly felt. Rick would no longer meet his eyes and Hershel knew the younger man still planned on going back. Mirroring Carol's actions earlier, Hershel turned and headed for the door, leaving Rick alone once again in the quickly darkening room.

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**Gosh, darn it, Hershel just about broke my heart there. I want my own Hershel! I have a soft spot for our resident horse doc (I really love to think he is the person that Daryl would chose to confide in...the subtle pat on the back in 'Seed' has my mind-a-thinking. I think I could honestly write a 50 chapter fic on one-shots of just these two!). I also really like the notion that Daryl opened up both Hershel and Rick on the same night...I do wonder what happened that day to make it happen. **

**I got carried away with all these scenes again...I'm really enjoying getting back into this writing malarkey. **

**And also, Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons**_**..."**__**Love; it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free. Be more like the man you were made to be."**_** Come on! Was that not a PERFECT song to come on. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing but those little thoughts doing laps around my head.**

**Thank you so much ****Laughy-Taffy the Grape****, ****WTFdoUwantNOW****,** **Pass the Porn Tea****, ****DucksFan1510**** and ****PhoenixKeir**** for the reviews on this. I was getting a bit discouraged so it is nice to know I have some readers :-)**

**I hope you all still like it after this chapter. This is the final 'action' of the story. I did say you would get answers...and I did say not to expect this fic to get any cheerier...**

_**Italics = flashback**_

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The sun had only welcomed the dawn of another day an hour or so before a light green Hyundai and blue pick-up came to a rest beside the now fallen black Bonneville. The overnight rain had softened the grass so the kickstand had sunk into the soil, toppling the bike in the early hours of the morning. The pick-up stopped yards away and within moments strong hands gripped the handlebars and hauled the bike back onto it's wheels. Tyreese used his abundance of strength and swung the Bonneville so that he could place the kickstand on harder ground. He looked up see three figures making their way towards him from the other car.

Despite Hershel's hesitation it had been decided late in the previous night that Rick, Glenn and Maggie were to return to the factory to try, at the very least, collect the two things that symbolised Daryl; his bike and his crossbow. Even if there was little hope of finding a body it felt wrong to leave what were the very essence of Daryl laying out in the baking Georgia sun, abandoned and unwanted. Each of the three had each expressed a wish to the group to be the ones to make the trip and bring some part of the lost hunter back to the prison, the feeling of honouring the sacrifice the man had made for them unspoken but obvious. Tyreese had also volunteered himself for the trip after encouragement from Hershel, feeling that as the newest member of the group his slight removal from the emotional situation would be a value in case the place was still overrun and the hard decision of turning around without their intended items had to be made.

"I'll stay here," Tyreese directed his statement to Rick, Glenn and Maggie having already made their way to the hole in the chain-link fence. "I can get the bike loaded on the bed while you...you do what you gotta do."

Rick nodded silently at Tyreese, grateful that the man was observant enough to realise the others wished to do this on their own. He made a mental note to thank him later before he turned to follow the others.

Having bent down to duck through the gap in the fence Rick stopped behind Glenn's shoulder and looked at the scene before him. Somehow, in little over 18 hours the numerous herds that had occupied the single field seemed to have moved on almost completely, leaving just a few slow-moving stragglers. Glenn's fists clenched and the younger man looked down, shaking his head side to side as the true nature of their shitty luck crashed into him with the force of a car wreck. If only they had made this trip a day earlier or later. One day. One single day and it would have been completely different. They would have found nothing of use, a fact the four of them would have bemoaned on their way back to the prison, but they all would have made it back safe. A half-smile played on Glenn's lips as he fondly imagined Daryl cursing his way back to the prison on the bike, expletives being lost in the wind that whipped past his face, completely pissed off that a day had been wasted. There always seemed so much that the hunter had to do to keep everyone safe and fed. A deep inhale and exhale of breath shook through Glenn's body. He suddenly felt much more tired than before, the weight of what they were here to do weighing him down. He hadn't slept the night before, too scared to close his eyes and see the terrible things his mind would conjure about his friend's fate. A large part of him didn't want to move forward anymore, didn't want to have to see the things he was undoubtedly about to, images that would no doubt burn themselves on his mind and haunt him forevermore. Another shake of his head had Glenn trying to throw those thoughts from his head. They were here for _him, _for any part of him they could take back with them. If Daryl could run into a baying mob of un-dead for them then Glenn sure as hell could stop being a pansy and walk into an empty field for _him_. A hand on Glenn's shoulder brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Rick's sympathetic eyes.

"Okay then," Glenn's voice sounded so much surer than he felt inside, "Let's go get Daryl."

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_Daryl moved as swiftly through the mob of bodies as he could, his body hitching every so often as one of the walkers managed to get a hold of some part of him. The knife in his hand would periodically move through the summer air and slice into the flesh of one of the monsters desperate to stop his movement forward. He felt a sudden tension on the strap on his shoulder as one of them pulled him back by his crossbow. He had too many other hands grabbing at him to allow the pause it would take to fight for it so he yelled with pure anger as he allowed the strap to be ripped from his back._

_Without casting his eyes back, Daryl continued on and sent the final flare spinning through the air, mid-stride, over his left shoulder. He allowed himself a momentary smirk as he managed to snatch a glimpse of it hitting a walker straight in the face. As his eyes turned forward again, another slice of his arm drove his knife hilt-deep in the temple of what had been a young woman. Daryl tried to pull it out but it was somehow snagged on the bone and brain it had just destroyed. With a grunt he released his grip on the last weapon he could use against his enemy but never looked back as he hurtled towards the overturned truck up ahead of him. Getting to it was the only way he wouldn't be eaten alive._

_Daryl cursed loudly as his eyes locked onto the vehicle laying on its side, which was quickly getting closer. There was a hole in what had been the roof of the cab, which now left the driver and passenger seats open to the elements and quickly put an end to his only plan; to try and shut himself in there. As the hunter finally reached the sideways truck he acted on instinct and stuck his right foot up onto the body of the vehicle and used it to thrust himself upward. His strong arms gripped onto the metal high above the ground as his feet struggled to find purchase. He managed to get the heavy toes of his steel-capped boots to meet the metal and one mighty heave brought him up and over the top just as the lumbering forms of the walkers crashed into his new-found sanctuary. _

_Pulling himself to standing, chest heaving deep breaths of exertion, Daryl's eyes frantically searched in the direction from which he had com. He felt all the fear and tension leave his body the instant he saw his friends running past his motorbike and clambering into their own vehicle. He watched from on top of his vantage point as dirt was thrown up into the air by the spinning of the green Hyundai's tyres. He watched as it sped along the road, leaving the Bonneville standing alone outside the fence's perimeter. He could just about make out the man in the backseat of the car turn to look his way. He pursed his lips together and winced, starting to chew on the inside of his mouth; he could just imagine the mask of guilt slipping into place over Rick's already ragged features. He knew that to the man his death would be another chink in his armour, another heavy weight on his already-weakening shoulders, another life lost because he wasn't able to save it. Daryl let out a long, deep breath that came out almost as primal a growl as the noises surrounding him._

_Long nails grabbed at his ankles and he swiftly kicked down on the head it belonged to causing the hand to fall away. More hands replaced them and he could feel the herd surging forward, the sheer volume of walkers seeming to almost lift them from the ground and bringing them closer to him. _

Jus' brilliant_, he snarled to himself, _just my luck if they worked out how to climb just 'bout now.

_He slowly pulled the handgun from his waistband and brought it out in front of him, routinely inspecting the chamber to check if the last remaining bullet was still safely inside._

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Maggie, Glenn and Rick walked in silent unison towards the last spot they had occupied with Daryl and stopped, each looking at the scene in front of them. Even if Rick hadn't have seen Daryl standing on top of the truck that sat a few hundred metres in front of the warehouse it still wouldn't have been hard to follow the hunter's path through the field. Twice-dead bodies created an almost solid line from the area in which they now stood to the overturned vehicle.

"Jesus, man," Glenn's voice was full of a strange admiration as he took in the sheer number of bodies in front of him. "He must have taken out at least three dozen by himself."

"Guys!" Maggie took off running and stopped a few hundred yards away. Kicking over one of the corpses she untangled an item from it's hands. She held it up as Glenn and Rick came to a stop beside her and they all paused to take in the form of white angel wings on a black, leather background.

A sigh left Rick's mouth as he moved forward again, stepped past the burnt out remnants of two flares and followed the trail of walkers. As he came closer to the truck he felt something crunch underfoot and stopped. Reaching down he picked up a now-broken bolt. His eyes scanned quickly and two steps ahead he saw it; the crossbow. He gulped at the sight of the discarded weapon. It had obviously been trampled, broken, by masses of feet but it still held it's main shape. It was no longer usable, but then there was no longer anyone there to use it. Maggie stepped forward into Rick's eye-line and scooped up what was left of the weapon, before moving on again.

In front of them, less than a hundred metres before they came to the overturned truck, Rick saw Glenn put his foot on the head of a twice-dead female walker and yank something from it's hairline. As Glenn held it up to the light Rick could see, unmistakably, it was Daryl's hunting knife caked in blood and gore. Glenn instinctively wiped the dry mess on his trouser leg before sliding the knife into an empty sheath on his waist. A quick look and nod back at Rick acknowledged the discovery as the three companions moved forward, once again in silence.

Rick slowed his steps as the stretched shadow of the truck loomed in front of him and he brought his hand as a shield above his eyes, squinting through the sun's rays. His footsteps stopped altogether as his eyes fell upon the bloodstain on the side of truck's white cab. His heart skipped as he took in the smear that ran from the very to top halfway down. His mind flashed with a picture of walkers managing to drag Daryl from the top of the truck and his desperate fingers clinging on to the metal frame as the flesh was ripped from his body. Rick shook his head to clear the images and his eyes began to scan the area for any other sign that that had been the case, but he could find none. Glenn, and Maggie came up to where Rick was standing, their eyes falling on the same thing Rick had seen.

Maybe the blood got there as Daryl pulled himself up onto the truck instead of being dragged off. But no, Rick realised with drop of dread in the pit of his stomach, wasn't that just as bad?

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_As the adrenaline wore off Daryl took a moment to take stock of himself, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as he tried to calm his breathing to a normal rate. He rubbed his hand over his eyes as he started to become more aware of a persistent sharp pain near his left shoulder, just above his left collarbone. He brought his shaking right hand up to the source of the pain and let out a deep groan as it was met with the unmistakable slickness of blood. _

_Blood. Lots of fresh, red blood flowing freely from an open cavern in what had been his solid trapezius muscles. _

_It hadn't been a surprise for him. He knew it would be there. _

_There was no getting away from the fact Daryl had felt the teeth sink into his flesh almost as soon as he first ran into the baying throng of the un-dead.__ A walker had managed to grab hold of his leather vest and Daryl spun quickly, expertly shifting the crossbow between hands as he did so, allowing the wing-adorned vest to be torn from his body. As he had returned to face the direction he was running he had felt the weight of clambering hands on his shoulder followed by searing pain. __He'd carried on pushing through the herd as he felt skin and muscle being ripped away. Still desperate to carry on and drag the walkers further away to help the others to safety he had only hesitated a moment to drive his knife into the walker's eye socket. He'd had no time to pause and assess the wound, not that it really mattered at that point, as dozens more arms were reaching to him, clawing for any handle on him. _

_He brought his right arm up and wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead away but was puzzled to find his head felt even wetter once he had done so. Glancing down at his arm Daryl grimaced as he saw the distinct shape of teeth marks, angry-looking and framed with yet more blood, on his forearm. He could see that blood and another clearer liquid oozed from the puncture holes as he held it up to the sunlight for better look. Shit, he hadn't even noticed that one. How had he not even felt it? A stinging sensation from the area began to radiate up his arm and Daryl kissed his teeth with discomfort. The discovery of a second bite didn't faze the man and he didn't bother to check his body for any more; he was sure it was just the two. Hell, what difference did it make if it was two or twenty that littered his body?_

_The section of flesh missing from Daryl's shoulder had not worried him as the teeth had sunk in deep and it still didn't really now. The additional bite simply made no difference to him. He'd known as soon as he had taken those flares from Glenn's backpack that he was as good as a dead man. He'd known that he'd had no chance of making it through that amount of walkers unscathed, hell he hadn't even expected it to make it anywhere relatively safe before being overcome and torn apart. The fact he now stood out of the reach of the savage monsters, at least for now, and had a semblance of choice in his own death was somewhat of a bonus for him._

_He couldn't decide whether he was going to just end it quickly, take the pussy way out and put a bullet through his brain or whether he would prefer to take a leap into the herd, fists and feet flailing and at least try and take a few out before they tore him to shreds. That way he would go out fighting. Go out like a Dixon always should. He snorted at his constant need to uphold the family honour. Hell, there were no more Dixon's on this Earth, why should he care what they would think. Bunch of assholes anyway, the lot of them. He'd go out the way HE wanted. He just wasn't sure what that was yet. _

_Arms by his side with fingers that nervously tapped against the outside of his thighs, Daryl turned slowly on his heels as he scanned the mob beneath him. While he was surrounded on all sides they seemed to be gravitating mainly towards one corner, hands scrambling to reach up and over the tyre suspended in mid-air. Daryl steadied himself as he felt the vehicle dip slightly, the sheer weight of them clambering to one point bringing the tyre downwards slightly. It was almost as if they were swarming, about to swallow the vehicle whole. Facing in the opposite direction than he had been before, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the back of the truck, where the metal side had unfurled at a join and created an opening into the belly of the vehicle. _

_The hunter strode over and brought himself down onto his stomach, angling so the hands of the desperately hungry could not reach him, to slowly inspect the inside of the truck. He sighed quietly as he saw it was dark, empty and, most importantly, secure. For now at least. It would be the perfect place for him to hole up and decide how he was going to finish this. _

_As he glanced up to the road that stretched to the horizon Daryl's breathing suddenly stopped and his heart skipped. The car that was carrying Rick, Glenn and Maggie had stopped abruptly with a glare of red brake lights. He pushed himself even further down onto the truck's surface, drawing his stomach in to bring his spine closer to the metal, trying his best to keep his figure out of view. He knew that if the others could see him they would not hesitate to come back for him now they had the fortification of the Hyundai. As he saw the passenger door open slightly he hoped that his body was far enough out of view that they would think he was already lost and not risk their lives for a dead man. Even if he hadn't already been bit, he knew he would still have pressed his body into the hot metal, scorched in the summer sun, and pray they did not see him. All he wanted was them to get back to safety. To get home. The thought of them struggling through the mass of the un-dead, even with the added help of a vehicle, made him feel sick to his stomach. The idea that they would risk doing it for someone like him made no sense to him, and he quickly swallowed bile that had risen to his throat at the thought of any of them dying for something as meaningless as him. _

_Mere seconds passed, although it felt like an age, where Daryl was scared to even breath in case the rise of his back as his lungs filled with air caught the attention of eyes that were searching for him. Relief filled him to his very core as he saw the door to the car close and the vehicle suddenly take off again, this time much faster than before. He drew in a deep breath that made his whole body shudder, and closed his eyes as he brought his forehead to rest on the metal. He knew in that instant they thought he was dead. And that meant they were safe. A smile played across his lips, probably the truest smile that ever graced his features, and for the first time since they had made it out of the building Daryl's breathing returned to normal. _

_Daryl slid himself round on his stomach, swinging his body past clawing fingers and drawing frenzied moans from below, and his legs dipped into the opening in the metal. He shifted backwards until he started to lower himself slowly into the empty chasm that was the truck's body, grimacing as his injured shoulder and arm took his weight. Daryl stole one last glance at the vehicle as it retreated further towards the horizon and let himself drop the short distance into the darkness._

_He stood there for a second, feeling the weight of the gun that rested on the back of his waistband and breathed deeply as a calm washed over him. His family were safe. _

_His family was safe. _

_That's all that really mattered. _

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Maggie continued to walk a wide circle around the vehicle, the broken crossbow and leather vest drawn against her chest as they sat cradled in her arms, looking for any sign the three may have overlooked. On the other side of the truck, with help from Glenn, Rick managed to haul himself on top, and in turn bent down and grabbed onto Glenn's hands, hefting the weight of the other man upwards. As they both stood it dawned on Rick that this was the last place he had seen Daryl, the dense knot of dread thickening in his stomach as he realised they were getting closer to the answers he so dearly wanted to find, but at the same time wished he never had to ask .

It only took a few seconds for the men to see the heavy blood drops forming a tight circle in the middle of the truck and they followed their trail to the bent metal exposing a fissure in the vehicle's skin. The younger man picked up some speed as he almost bounded to the opening, with Rick following tentatively behind. Glenn lowered himself down onto his stomach and attempted to peer into the darkness, with no luck. Rick remained standing as he stared down at the man now laying in a large patch of what must be Daryl's dried blood and swallowed a lump from his throat. For a second his eyes played a trick on him and he could no longer see Glenn but instead it was Daryl in front of him, heavily bleeding from somewhere and looking through the hole for the hope of safety. This was why he lost sight of him, he knew it.

"Daryl...?" Glenn's voice cut through Rick as he realised the young man was calling down into the hole. Drawing his attention back to Rick, Glenn asked, "You think he made it in there?"

Glenn's eyes quizzed as he pushed himself to sitting and Rick pulled his gaze away. Rick hated that he saw a semblance of hope there, the various questions of 'what if?' playing so openly on Glenn's face. What if he made it here in one piece? What if he was sat in there now waiting for them to arrive? What if they found him alive? The young man obviously clung on to the forbidden fruit of hope, despite the fact he had just been laying in blood, Daryl's blood. Despite the fact no voice had responded to his call, not even a whispered response. Hope; she was the cruellest of illusions in the world they lived in.

"Only one way to find out." Rick answered, not daring to look at Glenn as he stepped towards the opening and began the process of lowering himself down. _This is it._

The echo of Rick's feet hitting the metal resounded through the confined space as he let go of the jagged opening above him. He landed in a crouch, gently putting his arm out onto the dirty floor in front of him to keep his balance. Eyes darted in the darkness, straining to see, dust littered the air where one ray of sunshine streaked into the space.

"Here, take this," Glenn called, once again on his stomach peering through the opening as he offered a flashlight down to Rick.

"Thanks," Rick managed to get out as he stretched high to grab the torch.

Fumbling slightly, whether it was with nerves or pure fear or both he couldn't pinpoint, Rick managed to turn the light on and use it to sweep over the ground surrounding him, and then further out to the walls. He turned around, shining the light as he went and stopped suddenly as the beam of light found the thing he was hoping and dreading to see in equal measures.

Yellowed laces led up to dark brown boots on two feet that lay, spread, toes facing opposite directions. The light draped on the boots shook as Rick's hand froze there, unable or unwilling to move any further. Now he was here Rick wasn't so sure anymore that this was what he wanted. Maybe being dependant on hard evidence was no longer the way he wanted live.

"Can you see anything?" Glenn's voiced queried from the sunlit hole in the roof. He received no answer but open silence.

Rick pushed the hammering of his heart out of his thoughts and finally found himself able to move his body. He took two steps forward as he raised the flashlight slightly bringing legs of dark denim into view, the telltale hole in the knee showing dirty flesh. Both legs splayed outwards, knees slightly bent and for that second Rick caught a flash of an image of Daryl sitting, relaxed, using a log as a makeshift stool as he sharpened a homemade bolt, looking up and nodding at him briefly. Ricks hand flew to him mouth as the small amount of breakfast he had eaten resurfaced. He tried to swallow quickly but he couldn't stop it.

"Rick, talk to me." Glenn pleaded again. Not that he needed the words to be spoken out loud. Not now. _He knew_. The silence below was only interrupted briefly by the sound of gagging and vomit hitting the metal floor.

Rick steeled himself and drew the flashlight up to limp arms laying at the side of a torso clad in a grubby, sleeveless shirt, the colour of ingrained dirt and blood almost making the once-patterned material seem plain. The little energy Rick had was sapped from his body as his eyes fell onto the forearm of the limp right arm. The perfectly formed teeth marks, in all their bright red glory, were a stark contrast to the pale flesh they were surrounded by. A shaky breath escaped Rick's lips as his chest quivered and he fought for his composure. His eyes continued to scan, this time taking in the broad shoulders of the body.

Blood covered the vast majority of the left half of the shirt and it didn't take long for Rick to see why as he craned his neck to see round the side of the neck. The top buttons of the shirt had been undone and the collar pulled away from the collarbone, exposing a wound that looked so similar it made the tears fill the deputy sheriff's eyes instantly. Flesh and muscle was missing from the area, leaving a gaping hole that was covered in dark, dirty blood. Rick's eyes fell once again, unable to keep his gaze on the wound. _Just like Sophia. _

"Tell me!" Glenn's voice pitched in hysteria, the desperate need of a confirmation of the horrible truth evident in those two syllables. "Can you see him?"

Rick stood silently, without the words to answer his friend waiting above. He suddenly felt a rush of air and heard the clatter of feet on metal behind him as Glenn practically threw himself into the truck, unable to wait in the unseeing silence anymore.

"Rick?" His voice just a whisper now. There was no more trace of conviction in Glenn's voice as he stood behind Rick. His eyes followed the path of the light and onto the undeniable proof that sat slumped in the corner of the container.

The gun lay discarded at the side of a limp hand, having fallen there as the hand fell for a final time. The head rested to one side, dirt and grease-caked hair still wet with sweat clinging to an unshaven face. Heavy-lidded eyes were shut, covering the blue eyes that were never to be seen again, and long, dark eyelashes rested on puffy dark circles underneath that seemed a constant part of the face. Even now there seemed to be a scowl playing along the features, absence of dirt on the forehead forming lines to highlight the frequency the expression had been used on a daily basis.

A hole was evident in the skull just above the temple; hair hardened with blood surrounded, and fragments of bone littered the outskirts. Only the way the head had fallen to the side shielded the viewing men from the sight of the larger hole and worse damage of the exit wound. Still, the splatter of blood and brain could not be hidden from the metal wall behind the body, and as the flashlight travelled upwards to reveal the gore Glenn turned his head away swiftly and added to the pile of vomit on the floor.

Heavy breaths filled the air and the shaking beam of light returned on the lifeless body in front of the two men as they stood in silence for a moment. Without saying a word Rick handed the flashlight to his trembling companion, and swallowing yet another lump, made his way to the corner of the room. Glenn watched, tears filling his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks, as Rick crouched before the body and carefully put his hand to the cold cheek.

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Maggie was waiting at the side of the truck, having seen both men disappear into its depths, impatience obvious in her stance. Her dark hair moved slightly in the cool breeze, green eyes darted, one arm still clutching vest and crossbow and she shifted her weigh from foot to foot. Nervous energy darted through her veins as she stared intently at the side of the vehicle as if she could will herself to see through the metal that obscured her view. She gnawed on each fingernail of her free hand, biting so quickly and furiously that her teeth met the quick and started to bleed within just a few minutes. She paused before starting to chew on her thumbnail and drew her hand away from her mouth; the action threw a vivid picture of Daryl into her mind and she could not bring herself to imitate one of the hunter's many idiosyncrasies.

Maggie's attention was torn away from her thoughts as a heavy door, sitting sideways on the wall of metal in front of her, opened with a loud screech of rusted metal and fell to the floor in front of her. She gasped at the sight that was unveiled, drawing her arms tighter around the items she held as her mind took a snapshot that she knew would be used in nightmares for the rest of her life. She didn't dare look at Glenn.

Rick's jacket was draped around Daryl's lulling head, shielding Maggie from the view of the damage the bullet had done to skull, but she could make out the large wound on the strong shoulder and bite marks on the forearm. Ricks held the body in his arm with one resting in the crook of knees and the over underneath the neck, hand gripping the shoulder. Maggie had once before seen Rick hold someone like this; Carl after he had been shot. This time, though, his expression was different. When Maggie had first seen Rick Grimes he had a look of desperate panic and exhaustion planted across his face, fear and regret tainting the eyes of a man who was afraid he was going to lose his son. The Rick Grimes who stood in front of Maggie now, with the lifeless body of his biggest friend clutched in his arm, showed none of that. He showed nothing at all as he drew his eyes up to hers. She could see his jaw clench and his throat swallow in an attempt to stay strong and not allow his obvious sorrow become more apparent, but his eyes held nothing behind the sorrowful stare. There was no panic, or fear, or worry. She guessed those kind of emotions held no reason once you held the cooling corpse of a loved one in your arms.

No words were spoken between the three people Daryl had died to save. They stood for a few minutes in the rays of the quickly heating sun, none of them willing to make the first move back to the car. Eventually Rick twitched, having to shift the dead weight in his arms and Glenn was with him in a second, offering to take some of the burden. One flanked on each side of the dead man, their arms interlinking behind his neck and free hands holding onto a leg each.

The three figures moved silently back towards their cars, their progress painfully slow. None of them looked back once to the scene of the horrors of the last day. None of them wanted to lay an eye on this place ever again, although truthfully they would see it every time they dared close their eyes. They left the field as they should have the day before, as a group of four, but it was all so wrong. It wasn't how it should have been. Maggie walked past the sombre Tyreese to set the vest and crossbow down alongside the bike on the bed of the pick-up as Rick and Glenn gently loaded Daryl's body into the back of the Hyundai. Rick slipped into his seat and with Glenn's help slid the body so the head lay over his lap. Rick laid one shaking hand on the still chest of his best friend, and never moved it.

Within moments both cars roared to life and began their trip back to the prison, speeding away over the potholed road. No words were exchanged in the Hyundai during the trip, but the sadness that overwhelmed the occupants was littered with a smattering of rueful accomplishment at fulfilling their intended wish.

Daryl wasn't being left behind and forgotten. They made sure of that.

He never would be, as long as they were alive. They would always make sure of that.

They were taking him to be with his family.

They were taking him home.

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**I'm afraid you gots to believe it now! ****It took me so long to decide where to go with this chapter - and I was almost, ALMOST convinced to let him live. Just for a second. And I know getting bit/shooting oneself has been one, but I think it's always going to be a common theme in a zombie apocalypse. **

**Hope you all enjoyed. I found it quite hard to write this chapter - I hadn't planned it like I usually do and wanted it to take it's own course, but ended up writing it in bits and pieces, having to leave it and come back, and start from the middle of sections and work backwards. I do struggle with "action" so sorry if the quality of the writing isn't there. I much prefer penning those internalised dilemmas! **

**So, that's it****! Well, I think so anyway. I was toying with an epilogue of sorts of Daryl's last moments but not sure if it is needed. I was thinking it would round it off nicely, but not sure if it will now. Maybe I'll re-read in a few days and see...like to know your input! **

**Thank you so much to anyone who reviewed. This turned out nothing like I planned it to but I enjoyed writing my first ever published fanfic! **


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